Five Minutes of Relief
by Blue Zombie
Summary: J.T. thinks about smoking and stress and Liberty and the baby and Toby.


I wanted a cigarette. I don't know why, I just wanted it. I wouldn't reach for the pack tucked into the side pocket of my back pack, though. I could just hear Toby lecturing me now. "J.T." he'd say, my name all stretched out the way he says it, "Jaaay Teeeeeee, what are you doing? Don't you know smoking causes cancer and lung disease and heart problems and if you do it you'll die?" I knew, I knew. But what Toby maybe didn't know was that we all died, anyway. Why not have a little fun?

Okay, it's a disgusting habit. I admit that. I own it. Yellow fingers, yellow hair, bad breath, the stench of smoke. Crushed out butts looking like little shriveled up old dog turds. Yeah, it's gross. But it's also fun. I don't care. It is. Think about it. The hard pack with 20 perfect white cigarettes, all waiting patiently to give you that little nicotine buzz. Then you slide one out, light the end ever so gently and inhale. It only takes seconds for something inhaled to reach the brain and then buzz. Five minutes of relief.

I started smoking after the whole Liberty thing. The Liberty thing. She was pregnant. I got somebody pregnant. That was crazy. Who was I…Craig? No. I was me. Funny, dorky, quirky J.T. James Tiberious York. How on earth could I have gotten someone pregnant? Someone with the highest I.Q. in the school? God, the kid is probably smarter than me. The kid wouldn't smoke.

So at first I thought I wanted her to give the baby up for adoption but as we played house and looked at apartments and all the rest of it I kind of got hooked on the idea. Being a dad seemed kind of cool. Having a little J.T. around. It had seemed, I don't know. Important. Because let's face it, I had some father issues going on. My dad left. Deadbeat. And I've wondered what was in his head, how he could just chuck all his responsibilities. Didn't I mean anything to him? So I started thinking I could be a good dad, I could make up to my kid what my dad took from me. And then, then I saw how hard it was going to be. I was exhausted and the kid wasn't even here yet. I was working and in school and it was no where near enough for us to have an apartment and diapers and everything.

Yeah. The Liberty thing. She had the baby and I saw him, curled up in her arms so perfect. And I felt this almost crushing wave of love and hopelessness. I couldn't even hold him, I couldn't have him. I'd be shut out of his life before he ever even knew it. I didn't want that. I didn't want to desert my kid like my dad deserted me. I knew what it was to wonder about someone. To think and to think about why they let you down, why they let you go. And maybe the kid would have good parents that he'd love and get all he needed from but if he knew…if he knew about me and Liberty at all he'd wonder why we let him go. Maybe he'd wonder and understand it. Yeah, we were too young. But I wouldn't ever know.

So instead of going crazy and beating myself up over being like my father I started smoking. Hell, who am I kidding? I was beating myself up over being like my father and smoking. Maybe I was doing it because it was destructive and I knew it. Like when I guzzled half that bottle of pills on top of the alcohol at the ravine party but to a lesser degree. With cigarettes I could destroy myself so slowly. And it was fun. The inhaled nicotine, the lovely smoke twirling around my fingers. The puffing, the blowing out smoke like a dragon. It helped with the stress of Liberty and the baby and the suicide attempt and Jay and all of it. It just helped with stress.

"Hey, J.T. you going to class?" Toby said, pulling on the straps of his back pack. He always wore it with both straps on like a little kid, all buckled in. But I loved Toby. I've accepted him now. A few years ago I was fighting against his nerdy image and my nerdy image, by association. I liked to hang out with Paige and Manny, you know. Cool kids. I liked to shun Toby and watch him practice with the chess club and hang out with psychos with guns. But I was over that now. I was past it. He was my friend, my best friend, in all his nerdy glory. He'd give me that smoking lecture because he cares about me, plain and simple.

"Uh, yeah, in a second, Tobes," I said, and watched him shrug and head off to class. My back pack, slung coolly over one shoulder, it weighed me down. I was burdened, but there was nothing I could do. I headed for the side exit doors and went out once I saw Toby's head in the classroom. I was outside in the cold sweet air, alone. I didn't want to keep thinking about Liberty and the kid, the unknown kid who would always be a questions mark in my life, whether I was one in his or not. It sucked, it completely sucked that he was gone and I was here.

I set my bag down on the grass and dug out my pack of cigarettes. Slid out one of them and slipped my lighter from my pants' pocket. Took a guilty little drag, but I could feel the stress flowing away, up and away with the smoke. What Toby didn't know wouldn't hurt him.


End file.
